Our Hearts Beat Together
by Bluetardis221b
Summary: Sometimes a heart beat can change you forever.
1. Not Just Words

It only took one choice. The choice to either save the lives of the three most dear to him, or end his own. And despite the informants who made the reasonable arguments that he didn't, he did infact have a heart. It wasn't a hard choice in his mind.

It had been a year. A year since Reichenbach, a year since the jump, a year since John Hamish Watson lost his best friend to an 8 story building. John had almost completely lost it when Sherlock jumped. The first tear was made after the phone call. Seeing his vibrant blue eyes cold and dead made the second. The deep chocolate curls, soaked a cherry wood red by the blood that was coloring the white pavement made the last tear. John's heart was completely ripped apart.

He was always watched. Mycroft had tightened the security at Baker street, Mrs. Hudson checked in constantly, and there was another presence, an unsure presence that John could not make out. The unknown presence watched him carefully, but not in a way that made him uncomfortable, a likeable presence.

"John? Are you awake? There's a woman here to see you," said Mrs. Hudson, peeking her head through the door.

"Who is she?" asked John, preparing to tell whoever this woman was to leave him alone.

"It's Molly, dear, she has important matters to speak with you about I believe." John motioned for Mrs. Hudson to let her in and in she came. It was as though in the three years that John had known Molly she hadn't aged. She looked just like she did when he met her. Her sandy hair was pulled into a low ponytail that hung down her back. She had normal English woman's attire and ballet flats accompanied by her unmistakable St. Bartholomew's Hospital lab coat. He couldn't look into her eyes, though. Her chocolate irises resembled Sherlock's hair greatly in color which, even though it was silly, drowned John in sorrow.

"Hello John! How are you?" Molly asked, smiling softly at him. John weakly smiled back before speaking to her, "I'm as good as I can be, which, strictly speaking, isn't very good at all." Molly sat down beside him without making a single sound as she moved. She closed her eyes and exhaled through her mouth, the mouth that Sherlock had described as "too small" when she removed her lipstick. She opened her eyes and, with a look of complete seriousness that John had never seen, began to tell him her important matters. "John, there is something that I need to tell you. It is very important to me and you and you are the only one who is to know of it until you are told otherwise." Molly sounded much older than she was now, more _adult_. John nodded in agreement to her terms and when she looked like she was going to speak again his pulse quickened. Before she could say anything her phone made the signal that told her she got a text. It must of been short because the phone was back in her pocket before John could even tell what kind of phone it was. She looked at him and spoke, "You know, forget all that. I'm, uh, really bad at practical jokes, huh? Okay. Goodbye." Molly looked normal again but she was overly nervous, she walked in short quick steps all the way out of Baker Street.

John was bothered, not by Molly's strange actions, but by his heart beat. It was still beating very fast, faster than it normally did when he was excited. He had only had that feeling once. It had been activated by a few words.

"Wanna see some more?"


	2. A Secret to be Told

Sherlock had always been the one who was brave. He was the one who pulled John along when they were chasing a killer, but now John did the pulling. He had to reassure his mind that it was right.

The cabbie pulled up to Scotland Yard and before he even stopped John was running to the front door. He barged in the door with a look that said "Captain" more than "Detective-in-training". Immediately everyone knew that he had important business on his mind, Donovan didn't pull her usual "Hello Little-Freak." before she would nod in respect for Sherlock and Anderson didn't speak either for he knew that he would "lower the IQ of the entire street". John walked to the very back and knocked on the door that had "D.I. LESTRADE" written on a plaque.

"Come in!" shouted Lestrade from the inside of the office. John turned the knob swiftly and silently before he opened the door and walked in. Lestrade motioned for him to sit down but he kept a firm military position. Greg (Lestrade) took this as a sign that John had an important conversation worked out in his head. "Lestrade, there's something important that I need to tell you. It will make me sound crazy but I think that I'm right about it," John said his sentence as Sherlock would, fast, baritone, and just a tad breathy. Lestrade processed this drawn out sentence as though it were an intense mathematical theory. He smiled "Well spit it out then!" he said jokingly. John leaned in to Lestrade's ear and whispered to him. When he finished Lestrade, almost breathlessly, asked, "Are you sure?" This is why John came to Lestrade, he would take John seriously even when his thoughts were seemingly crazy. John nodded and Lestrade fell back in his chair, thinking again. John tried to think like Sherlock, he memorized Lestrade's perplexed face relevantly quickly, taking in the perimeter of each curve and the circumference of each circular dimple. When Lestrade had finished thinking, it felt like it had been ages but really it was only minutes, John spoke again, rather softly. " Thank you for your time Greg. I couldn't talk to anyone else. I normally come to Sherlock with things like this but that's... complicated.

As John left Scotland Yard a great burden lifted from his shoulders. He knew that he could really trust Lestrade, _always._ He called a near cab and got in. "221B Baker St. please," he told the cabbie, resting on the soft leather seats. The warm cab helped his thinking and by the time he got home he had at least 8 theories in his head about how Sherlock had did it. He recalled what he told Lestrade.

'_I think Sherlock is alive.'_

John entered the flat and couldn't help but to cry. Sherlock's microscope rested on the desk where he had left it, his extra purple shirt was strewn across a chair, _his_ chair. John hesitated but he finally decided towards it, he moved the purple shirt and sat down in Sherlock's chair. Almost immediately John's heart began beating fast again. It got faster and faster until it reached it's climax when John felt the warm hand on his shoulder. The hand swept down his back and removed itself. The soft click of loafers could be heard behind him. John closed his eyes and when he opened them, there he was. Clad in his black suit with that oh-so-tight purple shirt of his. The black trench coat hung at his shins for he had out grown that coat a year ago. His deep brown curls were placed perfectly in a halo around his head and his eyes, oh those eyes, the blue was as vibrant as it was on the day they met with those brilliant sparkling drops of silver invading his chance at being human with alien beauty. Yes, he was beautiful, that sociopath, _John's_ sociopath. He smiled.

"That's _my_ seat."


	3. He Will Be Loved

His smile immediately turned into a deep, sorrowful, frown.

"Where WERE you? Did you realize how much PAIN you put me through? Sherlock, I sat in this flat for 8 months barely eating, _never_ sleeping, and now you just return in the middle of the night expecting it to be normal again? Sherlock, you put me through hell and i went through it because I..." John stopped, he couldn't get that last phrase out.

"You, what?" asked Sherlock, clueless in this area of feelings.

"SOD OFF!" John moved from Sherlock's chair to his own, still decorated with the Union Jack pillow. Sherlock sat down in his chair reluctantly.

"John, I'm sorry. Moriarty had men, three of them to be exact. He told me that if I didn't jump he would kill you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. I couldn't let that happen to my friends, especially my first friend who fully accepted me. Molly assisted with my suicide, I couldn't tell you until the men were dead. Please, forgive me," Sherlock said, he looked at John with a look of complete genuine sadness. John looked back at his face, his cheekbones were sharp and beautiful as ever. John's eyes welled up with tears as he spoke, "I have already forgiven you, you git. Sherlock, I'm sorry for not believing in you. I missed you _so, so much._" John and Sherlock stood simultaneously. John ran to the other man and embraced him tightly. Sherlock hugged him back and then asked, "What were you going to say earlier?" John looked up at him with a look that said "_I can't believe you haven't figured this out"_ Finally he spoke, "Sherlock, I love you. Always have always will." Sherlock took this in and when he was done he reached out and grabbed John's face, in one swift movement their lips were touching. John kissed Sherlock back as though he would never see this man again. Sherlock pulled back and said something that John would never forget.

"John, I knew right from the start that there was something about you, you had this way you looked at me that made me feel loved and I'm sorry if I didn't give that feeling back to you until now. _I love you_. People said that I couldn't love, but you are capable of making me a better person. So thank you, for being my first friend and my first love. I love you so much, Jon Watson."


End file.
